Now that we have hit the first and most influential turning point in my life, I guess we need to talk about me. I am an Air Force brat. I was born in France but have lived in England and both the east and west coast of the United States. Anyone that knows much about the Air Force has noticed that this much travel is pretty rare. Most career officers might only serve on four or five bases in a thirty-year career. My family moved to four in less than eleven. I think it probably had something to do with my dad's specialty. he was a combat systems officer, and with the cold war heating up, and Viet Nam in high gear, he spent a lot of time helping integrate new weapon systems into various aircraft squadrons.

Before you start with all the shit about my dad the warmonger, fuck off. I love my father and he has always been a rock for me. I did not believe in the war in Viet Nam, I think he was less than thrilled about it, as well, but as an officer, he did his duty as he saw it. That's all I have to say on the subject with this exception. He taught me to question any dogmatic belief system. That includes the agitators that pushed us into the war and the protestors that actively, and sometimes violently, opposed it.

My father never yelled at me, and he taught me that in a true and open debate/dialogue, the person who has to shout down his opponent is wrong. Any and all beliefs are to be challenged by reason and proven or disproven on their merits. Only the mindless drone resorts to violence or diatribe to prove a point. That was true in the 1960s and it is just as true today. He taught me to always question my own beliefs and to validate them through intelligent and cogent reason.

He was also a strong influence on Tiggy, and our friendship. This was the mid-60s with the growing counter-culture, rebellion, long hair, and free love. Most of my father's generation would take one look at Tiggy and say something unflattering about his sexuality, or become violent. My father talked to me and to Tiggy as equals. He questioned our beliefs and motivations, while also encouraging us to explore life through music. You see, my parents were accomplished musicians, and our home was always filled with music. This was the bedrock on which we built our friendship.

Mom plays the piano and organ. She also has a beautiful voice and loves to sing. Dad plays almost any stringed instrument as well as the piano. I was never taught to play so much as I assimilated it. Dad has a number of guitars and we have a very nice 50s era Baldwin Acrosonic 36 inch upright piano in a deep mahogany finish that even today has a sweet timbre that can reverberate into your very soul. We may have attended Bethel Church of Christ every Sunday, but I think I truly worshiped at the Baldwin shrine.

Anyway, music was ingrained in my genetic code. When I met Tiggy I could play most of the popular songs of the day. I loved doing Dick Dale riffs and had a 1959 butterscotch yellow Gibson Les Paul Junior. If I heard it, I would grind it out until I could play it. I copied all the greats of the era, but Dick Dale and B.B. King were my favorites. I also have to admit that even though I was only eleven years old, I was pretty cocky about my ability with a guitar.

That first day around Tiggy, I brought him home. Mom fed him lunch (homemade vegetable soup and grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. He ended up staying until almost dark. All day long, nothing was said about Tig's hair (shoulder length and curly), appearance (emaciated, pale and wearing a handprint on one cheek), or clothing (ragged and dirty). At one point we found ourselves in the family room with guitars along the wall and our Baldwin along another.

"Wow. Are these all yours?"

"No, silly. The piano is Mom's and the guitars are dad's and mine." I chuckled.

"What's this?" he was standing in front of a flat stringed box.

"That's a zither. It's like a cross between an autoharp and a steel guitar. It has a unique sound that can really fill a room."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it has a deep resonance that can make enough sound to match any three guitars. Let me show you."

I moved behind the display table and took the low seat. I strummed lightly a few times, making minor adjustments then broke into 'Wayfaring Stranger', which is one of my favorites. The sound filled the room and I could literally see goose bumps on Tig's arms as the music reverberated. His eyes were wide as the music seemed to engulf him. When I finished the song, he sat motionless for a few moments before shaking himself like a wet dog.

"That was....amazing."

I smiled as I saw the effect the music had had on him. I knew at that moment that music was in his soul and would always be. It is no slam on anyone else, and I certainly do not claim any superiority over those who do not feel that deep intrinsic connection with music, but I do feel sorry for those who don't have that bond. Music has enriched my life so much, and I cannot imagine a world in which it didn't play an integral part in every facet of my existence.

He gave me a look of mixed despair, hope, and fear as he whispered softly, "Alan....could you...w-would you teach me to play?"

I smiled at him and nodded my head. It was obvious that we were going to be kindred spirits. I picked up a lightweight Kay archtop acoustic and handed it to him, showing him how to hold it. I picked up my own Gibson LG-1 acoustic and began showing him how to tune it. I sat at the piano and was very surprised at how well he understood pitch. I played an E on the piano and he tuned the E string without having to replay the keyboard. Once he heard the note it was locked into his memory and he had no trouble remembering it.

Once the guitar was tuned, I began showing him a few basic chords. Now, I know that everyone talks about Tiggy Anderson as a guitar prodigy, like he just picked it up and played it. Well, that's a bunch of bullshit. Tiggy worked at it and learned quickly. He never forgot anything. I guess he didn't so much learn the guitar as he absorbed it.

Within a week, we were jamming together with my family or just the two of us. It was during this time that I had my second great revelation/turning point, and it was a tough one to swallow. Tig was better than me. Now I don't mean he could play Mr. Eliminator, or Three O'clock Blues better than me. I mean he was truly talented where I was just a brilliant mimic. Wow, that's still a hard nut to swallow after all these years. I mean I could play it dead-perfect spot-on exactly like I learned it every single time. I don't think Tiggy ever played the same song the same way twice in a row. He would just roll off on these wild side trips and turn a song that I had played a thousand times before into something that only barely resembled the original.

It was frightening, and I was extremely jealous. Looking back on my life, I could have easily become Salieri to Tiggy's Mozart. I could have let that jealousy burn a hole in my soul and turn into something ugly. Thank God my father was able to help me put it into perspective.

He took me aside one night after Tigs had gone home. "Talk to me about it, Alan."

I knew exactly what 'it' was. I had been struggling to hide my emotions, but music has a way of stripping off the masks and revealing us in stark cold reality. "It's just so unfair....I mean....I have worked so hard to really be good at.....well...."

"And now some strange kid that never picked up a guitar in his life comes in and blows your world up?"

I nodded my head emphatically. "YES!"

"And that is unfair?"

"YES!"

"Because you deserve more than Lesley?"

"Yes....well maybe not so much deserve as...well...I worked so hard."

"So, do you remember the day you brought him home the first time?"

"Yes"

"What was that bright red mark on his face from?"

"He said his....uhm....his step-dad hit him."

"You think Lesley deserved that?"

"Of course not!"

"So who decides when someone has paid their dues, or who deserves what?"

"I...uh....I guess we each decide for ourselves."

"I agree with you. So do you really think music owes you something that it doesn't owe Lesley?"

I shook my head, "No, sir."

"Son, I don't think you've really thought your feelings through. You taught Lesley to play the guitar. Without your involvement, your friend might have gone through his entire life without ever learning how to play. Can you imagine what your own life would be like without music in it?"

I shuddered at the thought. I had never really examined my good fortune before.

"If that had not happened, if Lesley had not learned to play the guitar, where would you be? Would your life be better? Worse? The same?"

I thought about my life over the past weeks since meeting Tiggy. "Worse. Much worse."

"You know, son. I know that you have taught Lesley a lot. It is a huge gift that you gave him, but it's a two-way street."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it, son."

I spent that evening thinking about it....a LOT. When I woke up the next morning, it was staring me in the face. This massive truth was towering over me like a monolith. Maybe Tiggy wasn't the only one of us that could learn from the other. I had managed to share some of my technical skill with Tigs, and it had blossomed as his own technique had developed.

Why couldn't Tiggy help me to find my own creativity?